


'Tis But A Flesh Wound

by SingingInTheRaiin



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Jon honestly believes the bread knife story is clever, M/M, Nightmares, THERE WAS ONLY ONE BED, because he is an idiot, lol, not too much hurt though, post episode 47
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-14
Updated: 2019-12-14
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:07:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21788002
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SingingInTheRaiin/pseuds/SingingInTheRaiin
Summary: Martin finds Jon after Jon was stabbed by Michael, and immediately feels the need to take care of him.
Relationships: Martin Blackwood/Jonathan Sims
Comments: 22
Kudos: 409





	'Tis But A Flesh Wound

Martin whistled softly to himself as he went to bring a cup of tea to Jon. He knew that the man had a bad tendency to just forget to eat or drink anything all day when it was a statement-reading day. Which was pretty bad, since those always seemed to be the days where Jon was the most exhausted and in need of something to perk him up.

He knocked on the office door, and then opened it without waiting for an answer. He already knew from experience that Jon tended to get too lost in thought to actually hear whoever knocked. There was no one in the office, though, and Martin set the cup of tea down on the desk before turning to leave. Probably Jon just ran to the bathroom or the file room or something.

But Martin had a bad feeling in his stomach all of the sudden, because he glanced down and noticed a few drops of red on the floor. And maybe he was just being paranoid, but it looked a hell of a lot like blood to him. Martin rushed out to the bullpen, and over to Sasha and Tim. “Have either of you seen Jon?”

“I think he went to the break room,” Sasha told him, followed by an oddly out of place little giggle. Tim just shrugged. 

Martin headed to the breakroom, which was separate from the little kitchen area crammed into the corner of the main part of the basement. (Clearly whoever had designed the place hadn’t put much thought into the actual organization of the archives).

When Martin rushed into the breakroom, he paused as he saw Jon leaning against the counter, pressing a bloody cloth against his arm. Jon’s eyes widened, and he looked away guiltily, like he’d just been caught doing something wrong. “This isn’t-”

“What happened?”

Jon sighed, and his shoulders slumped down, and he didn’t fight it as Martin carefully pulled away the cloth to get a look at the source of the blood. There was a deep looking gash on the inside of Jon’s arm. “It was- it was a bread knife.”

Martin furrowed his eyebrows. “...What?”

“Yeah, I was making a sandwich, and I slipped, and I accidentally stabbed myself. No big deal, really.”

Setting aside the fact that there were no knives in sight, Martin thought that it made more sense to focus on the important issue of Jon bleeding heavily, and from the way his face was twisted, it was clearly painful. “We need to get you to the A&E.” 

“No, that won’t be necessary,” Jon insisted, though he immediately followed the words up with a pained wheeze when he yanked his hand out of Martin’s and clutched it to his chest. “They might decide to lock me up.”

Martin put his hands on his hips. “I won’t let that happen, Jon, I promise. But right now, you need a professional to look at that, because it is definitely not the kind of thing you can just slap a plaster on and forget about.” Jon looked tempted to try it, and Martin had to take a deep breath to stop himself from just picking Jon up and carrying him out to his car. “You’re no good to anybody if you bleed to death in the break room.”

Jon heaved out a large sad, but sadly enough that’s what seemed to get through to him. He grabbed his bloody towel again, though Martin stopped him from pressing it against the injury. He was pretty sure he’d read somewhere that you weren’t supposed to recover a wound with your own blood, because of germs or something. There wasn’t exactly much else at hand, though, so Martin pulled off his own sweater and balled it up before holding it out to Jon.

The drive to the hospital passed in silence, with Martin afraid to turn on the radio in case it made him miss any noises of pain from Jon. Though the quiet was just as worrying to Martin as any sound might be. Jon just wasn’t a generally quiet person, and generally preferred to put on the irritated asshole act when he was hurting.

When they arrived, Jon reached out with his good hand to grab Martin’s sleeve, smearing some blood across the fabric. “Will you go in with me?”

Martin decided not to mention that it hadn’t even occurred to him to drive off on his own. “Yeah, of course.” 

Luckily there weren’t too many others in at the moment, so Jon got seen pretty quickly, and Martin even stayed while the skin was sewn shut, though he did look away from the gruesome sight. When the doctor asked what had happened, Martin confirmed the bread knife story with as much conviction as he could, considering that he didn’t even believe it.

When they were finally able to leave, Martin gave Jon a long look. “Will you be alright on your own for the night?”

Jon shrugged, and stared straight ahead instead of looking at Martin. “Not as though there’s much other choice. But I would like to get back to the archives first, and at least try to get a little more work done. I never got to the chance to-”

“You’re joking, right?” Martin interrupted. “You can barely keep your eyes open. There’s no way you’re going to be able to get anything else done, at least not today. Can’t you take it easy just this once?”

Jon sighed, like the thought of just relaxing was asking the impossible of him, but then he slumped down in his seat and reluctantly nodded. “Fine.” 

It wasn’t until he’d been driving for a few minutes that Martin realized he had no idea where Jon lived. And not only that, but he wasn’t entirely sure if he should trust Jon on his own. At least not right at the moment. It’s not that he really thought that Jon had harmed himself intentionally, but with all the stress that he’d been under, and how paranoid he’d been acting lately, it was easy to believe that Jon was still somehow at fault for his injury. Why else would he use the completely obvious lie about the bread knife?

Martin decided that he needed to put his foot down, and he flipped on the indicator that would let him make the turn to head towards his own flat. “It’ll probably be difficult for you to do everything on those pain meds. If you- if you’re okay with it, I could bring you back to my place and make sure that you get properly settled for the night?”

There was a short pause before Jon spoke in a small, tired voice. “You think I’m crazy, don’t you? You and Tim and Elias all think that I’m looking for something that isn’t there. But there is something there, Martin. Don’t you think I’d just give it up already if it was just some- some cry for attention? This is about much more than me. Maybe at first I was just worried that whoever killed Gertrude would find a reason to come after me next, but now I’m afraid that we have far bigger problems to worry about. I wish more than anything that I could be wrong, but… Do you know how often I can ever say that?”

Martin pressed his lips together, and quickly took his eyes off the road to glance at Jon. The man looked so worn away, and it wasn’t something that could be faked. “I believe that you think that you’re telling the truth,” he said carefully, not wanting to start an argument, but also not wanting to agree with how far Jon had clearly fallen. 

Jon scoffed. “Right.” He leaned back and closed his eyes, and Martin felt something twisting up in his stomach. He wanted to apologize, but he also couldn’t encourage Jon to act so paranoid of his own coworkers. There was an awkward silence between them that Martin was afraid to break, and then Jon told him, “Just take me home. I can assure you that I’ll be fine.” 

Martin sighed. “Alright.” A few minutes later, he sighed again. “I probably should have asked this sooner, but where do you live?” There was no response, and he glanced over to see that Jon had fallen asleep. His mouth was slightly open and his glasses had slipped down to the tip of his nose, and he looked more peaceful than he had in months. 

The options left to him were to wake up Jon, even though the bags under his eyes were pretty telling of the fact that he needed the rest, or ignore Jon’s stated wishes. In the end, he just couldn’t wake Jon up. Maybe it was only the pain medication that had made him fall asleep, but Jon was clearly not getting enough sleep on his own. If Martin got yelled at in the morning for this, then so be it.

He parked outside his building, and then went around and carefully pulled Jon out of the car and lifted him up. It was worrying just how easy it was to carry the man. Luckily he didn’t pass anyone on the elevator or in the hall, because it might have been awkward to explain why he was carrying an unconscious man to his flat. 

After awkwardly fumbling to balance Jon while he pulled out his keys, Martin kicked the front door shut behind him and made his way into the bedroom. He set Jon down on the bed and pulled off his shoes and glasses before tucking him in. Maybe it wasn’t comfortable to sleep fully clothed, but there was absolutely no way Martin was going to take any of Jon’s clothes off while Jon was asleep. He could feel his face turn pink just at the thought, and he hurried to leave the room.

Once he’d settled down on the couch with a cup of tea, Martin thought to call Sasha and let her know that he’d taken Jon home for being sick. He didn’t want to mention the injury when Jon had been acting so cagey about it. 

Martin spent the rest of the day with the telly on in the background while he constantly got up to check on Jon and occasionally stopped to write short pieces of poetry. He made dinner at an appropriate hour for such a thing, but the smell didn’t seem to be enough to rouse Jon, so Martin packed away the leftovers. Eventually he crept into the bedroom long enough to grab a pair of sweatpants and a blanket for himself, and then changed in the bathroom. He laid down on the lumpy couch and did his best to fall asleep despite his worry, and the lumpiness beneath him. 

He must have successfully fallen asleep, though, because he was abruptly woken up by the sound of shouting. The room was completely dark, and Martin almost fell when he got tangled in his blanket before getting up. It took him a moment to remember why he was sleeping in the living room, and then he rushed towards the sound of the shouting. He knew that Jane Prentiss was dead, he knew that she was, and he’d even given Jon the jar of ashes to assure him of it too, but he couldn’t help worrying that somehow they’d been wrong, and she was alive and had come for Martin, only Jon had been there instead, and-

Martin burst into the bedroom, holding one of fire extinguishers he’d bought and stashed in his flat once he’d finally felt safe enough to return home. He flicked the light on, but there was no threat that he could see, just Jon flailing around in the bed. 

It took a moment for the adrenaline to fade out of Martin, and then he felt unbearably exhausted as he set the extinguisher down and made his way over to the bed. “Jon, wake up.” Jon just kept yelling and moving around, and that couldn’t be good for his freshly stitched arm, so Martin grabbed Jon’s shoulders to shake him awake. “You’re safe, I promise, so just wake up, now!”

The few seconds that it took for Jon to open his eyes seemed to last for ages, and then Jon blinked up at him in confusion. “Martin? Wha-?” He looked around, and took in the unfamiliar bedroom, and then shifted to sit up. “Right, well this is, uh,” he reached up to run a hand through his hair, which only made it look more wild. “Hm.”

“You fell asleep before you could give me your address,” Martin explained quietly. “I just thought that you could use the rest, and- I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have- I just-”

Jon sighed, and even after so many hours of sleep, he still looked like he had a bone-deep weariness. “It’s fine.”

They both stayed there like that for a moment before Martin cleared his throat. “Do you want to talk about it? Your nightmare, I mean.”

The look on Jon’s face said that he definitely did not want to talk about it, and he took a moment to look around until he spotted his glasses on the bedside table. He quickly grabbed them and put them on, as if they were a bit of armor to protect him. “Not really. It wasn’t- that is to say, I’m quite used to them. I’ve been having the same damn dreams since I became the Head Archivist.” He reached up to rub at his face, with his injured arm, and let out a small hiss of pain.

Martin leapt to his feet, grateful to suddenly have a mission that he could actually accomplish. “Right! I’ll grab you some paracetamol. I can take you to fill your prescription in the morning if you need anything stronger.” He hurried to the kitchen to set the kettle on, and then grabbed a glass of water and a couple of pills for Jon.

Jon swallowed the pills with the ease of someone who did it all the time, and Martin could only imagine the headaches that Jon must get from never properly taking care of himself. He brought Jon a cup of tea, and Jon accepted it with his good hand. “Thanks.” He gulped down half the mug in one go, even though it was still scalding hot. 

When it seemed like Martin had done everything that he could for Jon, he shifted on his feet. “Right, so I’ll just- I’ll just head back out there, and holler if you need me?” 

Jon rolled his eyes. “No offense, but I doubt that you’ve got a cozy sofa waiting for you out there.” He scooted over so that he was clearly on one side of the bed, and he patted the open side. Then he pulled off his glasses to put them back on the bedside table before sliding down and curling up beneath the blanket.

Martin was pretty sure that he wasn’t dreaming (because why would he want Jon to be injured?) but he couldn’t think of any other explanation. He was only allowed to share a bed with Jon in his dreams, right? But Martin didn’t need to be asked twice, and he carefully got under the blanket, making sure not to brush up against Jon and make things awkward. 

It seemed like it would be impossible to actually fall asleep, though, because he could practically feel Jon’s presence next to him. Martin was so busy staring up at the ceiling that he was taken by surprise when Jon rolled over and pressed right up against him. He was a bit too boney, and his hands were freezing, but it was still the most comfortable Martin had been in ages. 

He hesitated for a moment, not wanting to take advantage of Jon in a vulnerable moment, but then he reached out to put his arm around Jon to pull him just the slightest bit closer. Jon made a soft noise and Martin froze, ready to pull away if Jon wanted him to, but then Jon just made one of the most adorable sleepy noises Martin had ever heard before shifting so that his head was resting on Martin’s chest.

Martin wasn’t sure how long he’d be able to have this closeness, and even though he wanted to stay awake to savor it, he found that he was just too comfortable to keep his eyes open for much longer.

When Martin woke up in the morning to an empty bed, he wasn’t sure whether he’d imagined the whole thing, or if Jon had been angry and left. He wasn’t sure which was worse. Then he realized that he could smell bacon, despite not having any in his fridge recently, and he followed his nose to the kitchen. 

Jon was standing in front of the stove, and he glanced back when he heard Martin walk in. He frowned, but it didn’t hide the fact that he looked more refreshed than he had in a while. “I thought I’d thank you for your hospitality by making breakfast,” he said stiffly. “Had to run out and grab some things. Honestly, Martin, the state of your cupboards is just pathetic. You’ve clearly not been taking care of yourself.”

There was a small pause, and then Martin couldn’t help letting out a loud laugh. When Jon’s frown only deepened from his confusion, Martin sighed. “You’re the most ridiculous man I’ve ever met,” he said with an impossible amount of fondness in his voice. 

Jon rolled his eyes and turned back to the multiple pans on the stovetop, muttering unflattering things under his breath that Martin couldn’t stop himself from finding utterly endearing. Once everything was finished cooking and had been plated, they sat down at the rickety little table Martin had never gotten around to replacing. “Thank you for… yesterday. I-” his face darkened, and Martin realized that Jon was blushing. “I didn’t have any more nightmares once you were- well.” Then he shoved a forkful of food in his mouth so that he wouldn’t have to keep talking.

The idea that his presence had been enough to keep the bad dreams at bay made something warm fill Martin’s chest, and he couldn’t help grinning at Jon before he took a bite from his own plate. He let out an involuntary moan. “Oh, wow, this is actually really good. I didn’t know you could cook.”

Jon’s blush got even darker. “It’s no big deal,” he muttered, but he couldn’t hide the pleased look on his face. “We should probably leave soon so I have enough time to get home and change before work.”

“Sure, sure,” Martin agreed, wondering if Jon even noticed the use of the word ‘we’. “Though if you’re planning to go to work today, promise that you’ll stay away from any sharp knives.”

Jon blinked a couple of times, and then rolled his eyes. “Yes, fine, _Martin_.” The way he said Martin’s name was just so perfect, and Martin hoped that he would say it like that again. As he retreated to his bedroom to get dressed, he knew that he was grinning like an idiot, but he didn’t even care. Whatever other bizarre or scary things awaited them in the future, Martin already knew that any of it was worth it because it meant that he’d gotten the chance to meet Jon, and have these little moments. 

And even though he couldn’t read Jon’s mind, he could still clearly picture the blush on the other man’s face, and he thought that just maybe it was possible that Jon felt the same way.


End file.
